“Not Dare,” Calum chuckled. “She’s been trying to hook up with him for years. Thought he was a goner last night.”
“Why’d you think that?”
“Saw Brighton corner him when we were singing.” Calum shrugged. “He escaped though, lucky bastard. Too bad it’ll only make her try harder.”
“I’m surprised you remember anything at all about last night,” I pointed out, arching a brow.
“Yeah, well. You’d be surprised at how much I can remember when I’m wasted.”
Sometimes, I thought back to what he was like when he was back home dating Harper. He seemed more grounded then, surer of himselfandhis music. He didn’t party or drink like he did now. If he would stop trying to drink his problems away, and just face them, he’d be so much happier.
But those wounds wouldn’t heal until he learned to forgive himself, and Cal just wasn’t there yet.
Although he’d achieved international success, Calum still desperately sought approval from the one person he’d likely never get it from—our father. Dad had never forgiven Cal for bailing on college to chase his “frivolous dreams.” He never apologized when it was clear this venture of Cal’s wasn’t a frivolous dream. He let the silence drag on and on between them.
Calum refused to be the first to break it. He was too stubborn and I know he would never return when he felt so unwelcome. Whenever Mom and I chatted with him over video call, Dad couldn’t even look at him. He couldn’t even hear his voice without having to leave the room.
Even before their blowout, Dad wasn’t a fan of technology. He didn’t trust it and preferred to have conversations and interactions in person. It drove him crazy that Calum only ever called or texted, and never came home to visit, even though heknewhe was the reason, it was almost like he couldn’t help it. My father was who he was, and so was Calum.
It came across as anger for them both; but I knew it was more than that. It was hurt, it was regret, and it was stubbornness. They were one and the same that way, but Cal had his release with his music. He bled on paper, through his lyrics and the way he sung. If only Dad would listen, he’d probably get a peek into his son’s soul that he would recognize in himself, but that would mean admitting hard truths he didn’t want to face.
Not that Cal would facehishard truths, either. The Jacobs men were a stubborn stock, always had been. Jacobs men had always been notorious for getting into fights and causing mayhem. Gramps said it was because their ancestors used to be rum runners and gang members from a notorious Irish gang.
Although the years of rum running werelonggone, that abrasive, take-no-shit attitude ran thickly through our blood. Cal’s more so, as I was more like our mother’s side. Mine was tempered by her empathy and light, although my temper could flare just as hot.
“When does your flight leave?” Calum asked. I glanced at the time on the microwave over the stove.
“Two and a half hours,” I answered, and he nodded. “I need to go shower and change.” I was still sweaty from my morning—and evening—workout. Chugging the rest of my coffee, I set the empty mug in the sink before heading upstairs.
I was hoping to pass Dare on my way, but it was Evan who caught me in the hallway. He rubbed the sleep out of his eyes, yawning and shuffling toward the stairs like he wasn’t fully awake. He was dressed in a pair of sleep pants and nothing else, his chest bare.
Evan was leaner than Dare and Calum, but he frequently hit the gym too. He lifted his head, grunting at me as he passed. His eyes were bloodshot, and he likely only had one thing on his mind—strong coffee.
Grabbing my bag of toiletries and an outfit, I headed to the guest bathroom—this time walking a little slower. But Dare wasn’t waiting in the hallway either. Disappointment filled my chest, but I tried not to let it get to me. It was there because I was being greedy, wanting more than he could give me when he’d already laid it out.
With that reminder, I felt a little better. Escaping down the hallway to the bathroom, I locked the door behind me and took the quickest shower I possibly could. I blow-dried my hair and dressed before returning to the guest room to grab my bag.
I hadn’t really bothered unpacking, being that I was only staying for two nights. Luckily, someone had removed Jason’s bags from the guest room. Jason and his bags were no longer my problem, although I felt more than a little peeved at the prospect of having to tolerate his company in any capacity again.
We didn’t end up running into Jason on our way, and since Cal couldn’t venture into the airport to see me off without risking getting swarmed, I walked in alone.
In two days, the guys would be going on a heavily promoted tour. Their faces were everywhere, on billboards in the city, even on all of the magazines in the gift shop at the airport. Maple Records and Universal had pulled out all the stops to make it the most talked about tour.
They called it the punk-rock revival tour that would breathe life back into the genre. The guys had done a few instant hit collaborations with Killian Barker, two of which had gone gold.
They’d also done some collaborating with two UK artists, Tate and Jeramiah Stone, whose band Two Stoned had a huge fanbase in North America, thanks to a social media app that blew up with one of their original songs. They’d also joined them for this tour, and if it went well…my brother was hoping it’d mean a UK tour for them within the year or two.
Butthisparticular tour was all anybody could talk about, anywhere. A collection of some of the top punk-rock artists from around the globe, all on the same North American tour, hitting a few of the biggest cities in the United States and Canada.
I waited in the terminal until the gates opened, hoping like hell Jason would somehow miss the flight, sparing me the annoyance of having to deal with him. When the departure time neared without any sight of him, I started to relax.
Although I told myself I was indifferent toward what had happened, I knew seeing him and hearing him speak would only aggravate me. When the gate agent finally announced our flight could start boarding—I sighed with relief—thinking I’d somehow been spared having to deal with the situation.
But no such luck. Jason was late, and he had to run to the terminal before the gate closed, but he made it in time, falling into the seat beside me and breathing as if he’d just ran a marathon.
The flight back to Halifax was not an enjoyable one. Jason tried several times to talk to me and apologize, but I kept my headphones in—blasting music to drown out his voice.
I’d spoken to him only once, and that was to inform him we were completely over, and I saw no purpose in further conversing with him. He didn’t ask me why—he knew perfectly well why—but he did get irritable. His irritability only seemed to grow with each hour that passed.
